Zelton is born!
by I'mNotLettingYouPostToFacebook
Summary: Brian Zeller is completely sidelined in the FBI, but the near-murder of Doctor Frederick Chilton brings him face-to-face with someone who understands. Lacking any sort of control in his every day life, Chilton intends to get some control in the bedroom by introducing Brian to a whole new kind of therapy. S&M content. ((A sorry-not-sorry first voyage on the obscure new ship!))
1. The Meeting

Had Brian Zeller ever gone to see a psychiatrist, his first complaint would have been Will Graham. Brian had decided long ago that the man was clearly unstable, but something else bothered him too. Will reminded him of his older brother Daniel, who had always upstaged him at home. Now, Brian was upstaged at work by Will Graham.  
Jack Crawford _never_ acknowledged his presence. Alana Bloom was pinning for Will, and because of the profiler's breakdown, it was Brian who was left to pick up the scattered pieces of Doctor Frederick Chilton, despite the fact that his line of work was _dead_ bodies, not living.  
What no one knew was how exhausted Brian was from picking up of all Will's slack, not even Brian himself, until Doctor Chilton replied to what should have been an internal monologue.

"I'm surprised you aren't crazy now." The doctor muttered from his hospital bed. He'd been unconscious since the emergency surgery to put back most of what Doctor Gideon had cut out of his midsection. Until the escaped convict was caught, Zeller was on watch-duty…though it wouldn't have surprised him in the least to know that Will Graham had gunned Doctor Gideon down in a field two hours before and no one had thought to call him.

"Trust me, I know crazy." Chilton continued when Brian was too stunned to answer. "Everyone I work with is crazy…I'm probably crazy…" Already he was drifting back into unconsciousness. "…everyone you work with, too, probably…"  
That was so close to the direction of Brian's thoughts that he froze from where he sat beside the doctor's bed, looking down at the pale, stubble face of Doctor Abel Gideon's most recent victim. His face was a ghastly white, but his eyelids were dark like twin bruises on either side of his face.  
What Doctor Chilton needed more than anything was sleep, but Brian couldn't help himself. This man was a professional who worked with crazies every day, who knew how they thought. He leaned over the hospital bed close enough that he could smell a hint of the doctor's aftershave under the chemical aroma of the hospital.

"Doctor?" he whispered. "Doctor Chilton, do you think Will Graham is crazy?"  
This time the doctor's eyes didn't open when he spoke. " 'course he is…" he mumbled.  
Doctor Chilton didn't wake again before Jack Crawford called Brian, and that should have been the end of it…but it wasn't. For one Brian was curious about how much the doctor had heard him say the night before, and to have someone else who believed that Will Graham was crazy…that was  
something new.  
And that would have been _all_ it was if Brian hadn't found himself wondering whether to buy flowers when he visited the doctor in the hospital again. He had to remind himself that he didn't know the doctor personally, that he had to keep certain things to himself if he wanted to keep his job with the FBI.

He hadn't counted on feeling attracted to Doctor Chilton, and he hadn't counted on what one night of rest could do for a man as determined as Chilton. When Brian walked into the room (feeling strangely defenseless without even a tray of food in his hands) Chilton was already hitting on the nurse.

"Please send my thanks to the men and women who tied me up last night," he said, resting one hand on his impressive array of stitches. "But if you'd like I can clear my schedule tonight so you can have a go at it, too." He even managed a swat at the nurse's retreating behind, though from the expression on his face showed that his stitches reprimanded him promptly. He settled himself back on the bed when he saw Brian.  
"Er, hello." Brian said, pulling the chair a few more feet from Chilton's bed before he sat down. "I'm Brian Zeller, I work for the FBI. I was asked to keep an eye on you and Miss Lounds last night, after…"

"Yes." Doctor Chilton pushed himself up into a sitting position so he could look at Brian. "I recall it, vaguely…thank you, Mr. Zeller." He raised an eyebrow, "I take it you're here for a reason."  
Brian had a dozen reasons, but suddenly none of them seemed any good. He almost left then, but the most important reason kept him there. "I wanted to talk about Will Graham." He managed.  
"Usually I charge for this sort of thing, but I don't expect any visitors today…or nurses, for that matter," Chilton said, shooting a glance at the open door. "Close the door, Brian, and we'll talk about Mr. Graham…"

Brian had never been alone with a therapist before. He hadn't even been invited to one of Hannibal's dinner parties ever. But, given how many insecurities and traumas he had managed to collect in the last few months, it was as easy and peaceful as falling asleep after a hard day's work. He didn't think it was strange that he visited Doctor Chilton every day until Jack Crawford asked him why he was leaving work early. It was the first time Jack had spoken directly to Brian in months, but Brian found himself lying before he had even fully thought about what it _was_ that he was doing with Doctor Chilton after work. They seemed more like conspirators in on a secret than a doctor and a patient…and Brian had managed to tell Doctor Chilton _the_ secret.

Doctor Chilton had guessed, actually. For all his flawed methods, he _had_ taken psychology courses, and Brian had talked non-stop about his suspicions that Doctor Lecter and Will Graham were in a relationship.  
"And you resent this because you believe that Jack Crawford and your colleagues would never support you if _you_ came out of the closet…am I correct, Brian?"

Saying no had gotten easier over the years, but now Brian had no reason to lie…he felt safe with Doctor Chilton. "Yes," he admitted, a faint smile on his face. "No one respects me, few even really _like_ me…"  
_Join the club_. Doctor Chilton was thinking. That was followed by: _As soon as I get out of this hospital, the things I could do to you, Brian…_


	2. The Plan

It was the nurses who first realized that something was off. Towards the end of his stay, Chilton's salacious advances had tapered off to nothing. More than one nurse thought this was a sign that the doctor was experiencing some unforeseen complication, but soon enough a candy striper overheard a conversation that explained everything.

Freddie Lounds—the loud redhead who never respected visiting hours—had been visiting Doctor Chilton with her tape recorder in hand. Determined to make the best out of a bad situation, she was turning her night of terror into a sensational article for , which she hoped to top off with an exclusive interview with Chilton.

Chilton had refused her for a handful of days, protesting that he was still too weakened by his injuries, but it had really been a plot to keep the gorgeous woman visiting him. Freddie understood this and was willing to play his game…until he stopped playing. The game didn't go on for more than a week when Chilton answered each and every one of her questions, embellishing the narrative a little in all the right places. She'd snapped off her recorder when she was done with a bemused smile on her face. She had expected Chilton to hold out for two weeks at least, maybe three…but she thought she knew the reason. She'd seen the other person who visited Chilton every day, the man with the shy, child-like eyes and the FBI job.

"You two would make a good couple." She said as she dropped her recorder back into her purse. She really had no way of knowing whether Chilton had stopped hitting on the women because he was pleased with the forensic investigator's crush or irritated by it, but she had a hunch. This was a new age, after all. Now people hardly gave her and Wendy a second glance when they walked down the street holding hands.

Chilton's only reply was a smile.

So the nurses knew, Freddie Lounds knew (as would all readers of , if it could ever serve her as a story), and Chilton knew…but as of yet Brian was completely unaware of just how transparent he was being. Everyone at work was too caught up with Will Graham's breakdown to notice, but all the people who really mattered…they had noticed. Most importantly Chilton was now sure about Brian, or as sure as he could be, and he was making a plan.

Chilton would have gone into action sooner, had it not been for his welcome home. No one really cared about him (except, he had begun to suspect, Brian Zeller), but some people even do kind things for the people they don't particularly like. One of the nurses from the asylum, Barney Mathews, had arranged a coming-home party. Whether because he wasn't fond of crowds or because no one had thought to invite him, Brian made himself scarce.

Chilton found himself tolerating attention rather than basking in it for the first time in a long time. His mind was elsewhere…in the gutter or, more accurately, in the bedroom.

* * *

The next day Brian picked up the phone on the first ring, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he heard Chilton's voice. He didn't try to explain his absence from Chilton's party or mention that it had been the first day in many weeks that they hadn't spoken. Not that Chilton gave him very much time for either of those. "Can you meet me downtown in half an hour, at a nightclub called Wendy City? A friend promised me free drinks for a night in exchange for an interview…can you?"

"Yes, but doctor—" Chilton hung up before he could ask, _should you be drinking without a liver?_ And now a dozen more pertinent questions occurred to him, not the least of which being_ what do you want from me?_, but now was not the time. With a sigh, Brian grabbed his car keys out of a cup.

Chilton gave a plausible answer to the latter question as soon as the forensics specialist joined him at the bar. There were two beers in front of Chilton, and he pushed bpth of them at Brian. "A night of free drinking to a man with no liver…makes sense, doesn't it?" he laughed at the bemused expression on Brian's face. "C'mon, I need someone to drink for me. Let's take Miss Lounds for all she's worth." As he said this he tipped his chin towards a shapely blond woman serving drinks. From what Brian had seen, Miss Lounds was a redhead…and then it made sense. The bar didn't seem like one of _those_ places, the people crowding around the dancer's stage were mostly men, and Brian breathed yet another sigh of relief. Chilton watched all this with amusement.

Chilton didn't wait long before he offered to drive Brian to his house for dinner. He wanted the man relaxed, not drunk. He unlocked the door to his house and waved Brian ahead of him. He'd expected to be nervous, like a young girl on her first date…but that had passed. He'd been sure of Brian for a while now. He just needed Brian sure of him.

A dinner at Doctor Chilton's house was very different than a dinner at Doctor Lecter's would have been. For one, the chicken had actually had feathers at one point. For two, it was just the two of them.

Halfway through dinner, Doctor Chilton put his fork down. "I think we need to discuss our relationship now that I'm out of the hospital, Brian."

The way he folded his hands when he said that…it filled Brian's veins with ice. Perhaps it was made worse by the way his heart had stuttered when Doctor Chilton had said relationship, but did it matter? He knew what was coming. It was fine for an injured doctor to pass the time with a non-paying client when he was bored, but now that he was well again he would either demand payment or sever ties entirely.

Chilton noted that Brian winced as if he'd received a kick to the gut and continued, not wanting to leave him hanging. "I enjoy your company very much." _Oh yes, Frederick, the perfect way to set the man's mind at ease…it's a line straight from a Dear John letter._ "I…" But how to put this into words? "There was something I was hoping I could show you."

The kicked-puppy look left Brian's eyes, but he still seemed wary. Chilton doubted that Brian knew just how transparent he was. Yes, he probably thought he had a perpetual poker face. Time to shatter that illusion for him.

"If you could follow me…?" Chilton stood, leaving his mostly-empty plate on the table. There'd be time to clean up later. _After_ dessert.

Brian made no comment as he stood, though he shot a bemused glance at his own plate before pushing his chair back in and following Chilton. The psychiatrist led him to a flight of steps to the basement door.

For one moment, Brian felt as if he was back at work. Jack Crawford would reach forward and open the door to a torture dungeon, revealing his own body impaled on spikes above a pool of blood. Yes, he felt safe with Doctor Chilton, but the hungry look in his eyes right now—

Doctor Chilton reached forward and pushed the door open, letting it swing rather than stepping through. His eyes were on Brian.

Brian's mouth gaped as a room very close to his imagined scenario filled his view. No spikes and no bleeding body, no, but just about everything in it looked deadly. The back wall of the basement was covered entirely with wipes, chains, and dangerous-looking objects.

Now Chilton's smile was gone. Instead, he looked anxiously at Brian's face. "Brian…?" he said softly.

Brian managed to close his mouth, but when he moved it at first no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again.

"Holy shit!"


	3. The Tease

Brian didn't say anything else for a while, too long, and Chilton had to break the silence.

"Brian?" He fought the urge to reach out and take the other man's hand, terrified of startling him. Brian's eyes were still locked on the seemingly never-ending wall of torture weapons. Chilton compromised by putting his hand on Brian's shoulder, leading him into the room but parallel to the far wall. Brian walked stiffly until he came to a stop at a bed frame with only a mattress and no sheets. Chilton sat down with him and released his shoulder.

"_Brian_?" Chilton spoke again, this time with more urgency, and Brian turned to look at the doctor. He still looked dazed, uncomfortable. Chilton covered Brian's hand with his on the mattress and began to speak.

"This is what I wanted to show you. It's my—" _Hobby? Evil plan for you? Weakness?_ "It's what I do." He could feel the words slipping by without censorship. "You've told me how you feel ostracized at work, well, so do I. I have no control. Here…here I have control. I _need_ control. But I need someone—" _The _words_ Frederick, say the damn words!_ "You have too much on your shoulders. You're working enough for ten men for a boss that doesn't even notice…always left in control. I was hoping you'd like to lose that control. With me."

Chilton had watched Brian's eyes getting wider and wider with each word. At any second he would jump up and leave, not really angry but too used to compressing his feelings to act on them. One thing allowed Chilton to retain hope: Brian hadn't let go of his hand.

Chilton had never expected himself to be the one pleading in this room…but he would. For Brian. "Don't lie to me about how you feel, Brian, but more importantly, don't lie to yourself. You've told me about your sexuality, and you blush like a schoolgirl whenever our hands happen to touch—please."

And he waited.

Brian's tongue wet his lips, an unconscious gesture that drove Chilton insane. "You'll hurt me." It wasn't a question. He didn't have to ask. Brian was neither stupid nor naïve. Chilton didn't respond except to squeeze Brian's hand.

"How do I get you to stop if I can't—?"

"You just need to tell me to stop." Chilton assured him. "But you need to tell me twice…because you need to be sure." He let go of Brian's hand. "_Are_ you sure, Brian?"

When he found how dry his mouth was, Brian nodded. He watched as Chilton stood and walked to the basement door, closing it firmly but not locking it. The doctor began removing his tie and his vest, leaving only his white collared shirt over black slacks. Brian raised his fingers to the first button on his shirt and hesitated. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do _exactly_ what I tell you to do." Chilton said, a hard edge in his voice. He misread Brian's expression and offered a brief comforting smile. Brian hadn't felt a moment of fear or hesitation, however…he'd felt a flash of excitement.

Chilton was running his hand over his impressive collection of toys, pausing every once in a while before moving on. He selected a short, black riding crop and stuck it into his back pocket so it waved like a flag. One of the other items he selected was a plain leather cuff that he snapped around his left wrist. He shifted through several pairs on handcuffs hanging on a rack before selecting two pairs. Brian watched this without a word, his breath choking in his throat when Chilton started back towards the bed.

"I think it's safe to assume that you've never experimented with bondage?"

"No. Never."

"Then I'm going to talk you through the process." Chilton dropped the handcuffs on the foot of the bed. "First of all, no matter what you've read, _never_ use cable ties. It's dangerous, especially for a first time. It's better to use something thicker, so it doesn't cut off circulation. Now," he licked his lips. "I'd _like_ to use handcuffs, but since this is your first time I'm only using them on your ankles. For your wrists I can do one of two things. I can tie them to the bedposts with rope or I can have you slip your hands through loose loops. That way you'd be able to let yourself free at any time." The dangerous tone had reentered his voice. "This is the only time I'm giving you a choice, Brian. After this, you don't have any say unless you ask me to stop-or until we're done."

Brian could feel his body react Chilton's words. A steady heat was rising up throughout his whole body, centered in an area he was suddenly very glad he had covered.

"The rope." He answered in a strangled voice.

Chilton smiled. "Good…good." He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly. "I want you to take your shirt off, Brian. _Just_ your shirt for now. Slowly."

Brian's fingers trembled slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, plucking at the buttons of his plaid work shirt. Chilton watched his every move with gleaming eyes. The cool air of the basement made Brian shiver as he cast his shirt aside and looked at the doctor. He was shocked to find that he was trembling.

This wasn't about love for Frederick Chilton, not yet, but he was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to kiss Brian then and there as if this were a normal first date. But that could wait.

For now.

Chilton stood by the bed looking at Brian, pleased to be taller. Reaching over Brian's lap, very careful to brush across his pants, he retrieved the handcuffs.

"Take off your shoes and socks. I don't care if you have intimacy issues, you probably do, both are coming off. Kick them under the bed."

Brian did as he was told, his bare feet cold on the cement floor of Chilton's basement. Somehow that made it so much more real than any of it, realer than Chilton in his dress shirt with a riding crop sticking out of his pants pocket or the excitement his own body was feeling.

"Let's begin."


	4. The Act

Next time, Chilton would pass the handcuffs over to Brian and watch him restrain himself. He tried to push that thought aside and focus on the now. Now Brian needed to be shown, guided. Chilton brushed the handcuffs against his knuckles as he spoke.

"Now I want you to get on the bed, face up. Spread your arms and legs." Brief confusion flickered across Brian's face, but he didn't protest. It was driving Chilton wild to be patient, but he had to remind himself not to rush. He wanted to savor this, to make it count. If he didn't, there might not _be_ a next time. He took first one of Brian's wrists and then the other, holding them tight to the bedposts as he made careful, neat knots. The rope would bite despite being thick, but it was better than cable ties. When that was done Chilton paused at the foot of the bed, admiring his handiwork as he handcuffed Brian's ankles to the bedposts. He took in the other man's flushed face and fluttering chest as well as the excitement straining the front of his jeans. He let himself reach forward and brush the skin across Brian's stomach, lingering at the edge of his pants.

"I want you to beg for me." He breathed, barely able to contain his own desire. He'd been picturing this moment for more than a month now. When Brian didn't reply he took his hand off Brian's skin, closing his eyes as the bound man hissed in frustration. He stepped around the bed so he stood by Brian's head, undoing the leather cuff on his wrist as he did.

He played with the improvised leather strap, taking his time to find a decent grip. Then, after a moment of deceptive stillness, he brought it down with a snap across Brian's skin.

Brian let out a surprised gasp. It had been louder than it had hurt, really, but by moving his head slightly he could see a livid pink mark the strap had left.

"Pleasure and pain stimulate the same parts of the brain." Chilton said softly, running the strap through his free hand. Again he brought it down on Brian's flesh, closer to his belt. "The body can confuse them, or even register them as the same. But right now I think your body is paining you more than I am…" Chilton nodded at Brian's erection. "Do you want me to take the rest of your clothing off?"

He hadn't even finished speaking when he brought the strap down on Brian again, higher. "Yes!" Brain gasped, still recoiling from the blow. It was lighter than the others, and it stung far more fiercely…and he felt it deep in his groin as much as on his chest.

"Yes what?" Chilton asked, dropping the leather strap to the floor as he pulled the riding crop from his pocket. He brought it down on the mattress rather than Brian, making a sharp crack that Brian felt anyway.

"Yes! Help me with them!" For the first time in months Brian wasn't thinking about Will Graham or Jack Crawford or work. He was concentrated solely in the livid red marks Chilton had raised on his skin and the pulsing hot center of his arousal. If Chilton didn't stop his pants from crushing him, the agony would be too much.

Chilton had moved so he was kneeling on the bed now, one knee between Brian's. Brian felt something moving at his belt buckle, but it wasn't fingers. It was the riding crop, tickling and teasing along the fine trail of hair before slipping teasingly under his belt. Chilton's fingers were taking care of other business.

"Please!" Brian sobbed, knowing that he must be struggling because he could hear the handcuffs rattling on his ankles. "Please, Frederick!"

Chilton pinned him to the mattress with his weight and he felt the doctor's mouth on his shoulder. Never leaving the fine line between kissing and biting, Chilton brought his mouth up to Brian's ear. "Because you said please." He whispered. His free hand deftly removed Brian's belt while the other controlled the crop's teasing movements. Chilton paused after discarding the belt long enough to kiss Brian deeply, smiling against his mouth as Brian returned the kiss eagerly. He could feel Chilton against him now, rock hard with excitement.

Chilton tore rather than tugged Brian's pants, letting them pool around his ankles. He exercised his control now, leaving Brian with one flimsy barrier between them while he sat back, pulling off his own shirt. His hands hesitated at his fly before returning to the whip on the mattress. "You're going to help me out of my pants now." He told Brian breathlessly. "With your teeth."

Brian was all too eager to comply. He waited until Chilton positioned himself accordingly, then bit the material in his way.

Somewhere along the line Chilton grew impatient and helped him, stripping off all barriers between them save one. He played at the edges of Brian's briefs with the crop, tickling and then stinging, each closer and closer to where Brian was ready to burst. Far off he could hear someone moaning, and only after a while did he realize that that someone was him.

"Stop, stop!" he was whimpering.

Chilton froze, the crop resting on Brian's upper thigh. "Do you mean that? Do you want me to stop?" He didn't know if he could, not right now…

"No!" The crop's pressure leaving his skin decided it. "Please don't."

"Please don't what, Brian?"

"Please don't stop!" Brian arched against his restraints, pulling towards Chilton.

With a satisfied smile, Chilton cast aside the crop. He retrieved a foil packet from his pants pocket before climbing back on the bed. "Safety first." He murmured with a grin. "Although I doubt this is going to feel very safe at first." He tore away the last barrier between himself and Brian, unable to hold back. He heard Brian first cry out in pain and then pleasure, his one hand underneath Brian's lower back and the other on his groin. He felt Brian come moments before he did, settling his weight on Brian as they lay panting in the semi-dark.


	5. The Morning

Sometime, after everything, Chilton had turned off the basement light and untied Brian's wrists. The handcuffs had jangled softly before Brian's ankles were free and the doctor fell back on the mattress, curling up and going to sleep almost instantly.

Brian willed himself to fall asleep as well, but he could not. This was not one of those situations he'd be able to hold his emotions off until the morning. His own bed seemed very far away tonight.

The sound of Chilton's breathing echoed on the basement ceiling, so much higher than the one at his home. Brian's arms clutched for sheets that weren't there. But most of all, there was the careful way Chilton had crawled back onto the mattress so he and Brian weren't touching. The foot between them seemed like a mile, and Brian couldn't help the small whimper that escaped him. It was lost somewhere between the bed and the ceiling, making no echo.

Brian didn't regret his actions…but perhaps he did. Just because Doctor Chilton wanted more from him didn't mean he'd get what he wanted in the long run. What did he want in the long run…? Not this. If Brian had pictured this night in his head, he would not be curled up on his own side of the mattress but lying against Chilton, connected as they slept. He would have pictured a bed, a _real_ bed, with covers pulled up to their chins in the doctor's bedroom. Something that spoke of love and care, not…whatever this was.

Sex was good. Sex was great. But Brian realized that his car was still parked outside Chilton's house, his clothes on Chilton's floor, and he wasn't going to risk discovery for anything less than love. He wouldn't walk out on Chilton in the night, but he would explain his feelings very carefully…

Making that decision did little to help Brian sleep. He lay awake most of the night, listening to Chilton's breathing echo in the lofty basement.

* * *

He awoke before Chilton did, hands wrapped around his body against the morning chill. Brian climbed off the mattress, collecting his briefs and pants from the foot of the bed and his shirt from the floor. He watched Chilton as he buttoned his shirt, the rise and fall of the doctor's chest. Without his beard he could have passed for a child. He looked almost peaceful. Brian closed the basement door quietly behind him.

The remains of the dinner he had shared with Chilton lay scattered on the table. With nothing better to do until the doctor woke up Brian began scraping and washing them. He wasn't surprised to see that it had snowed again. There had been snow on the ground the night he met Doctor Chilton, after all.

He was almost done when Chilton entered the kitchen. He turned, placing his hands on the counter, and noted that Chilton had taken the time to put on a bathrobe. The doctor was grinning, his hair mussed, looking like a mischievous teen.

"Hi," Brian said softly.

"Hey." Chilton grinned even wider, crossing the small kitchen to stand in front of Brian. "You don't have to do that, you know," he said, placing his hand on Brian's and nodding at the sink. "Next time I'll make sure to clean up beforehand…"

"No, Frederick—" Brian couldn't help himself, he pulled his hand out of Chilton's grip. "I _wanted _to. I had to think, had to get myself out of _that room_…"

Chilton's smile faded as he gauged the expression on Brian's face. This was not the same man he'd led down the stairs to his basement the night before. Brian was more resolved and, a cause for more concern, there was pain in his eyes.

"Brian…"

Brian pushed past Chilton, standing far enough away that Chilton couldn't touch him. The doctor's bathrobe was open at the chest, revealing dark hair and strong muscle, but Brian needed to think. He closed his eyes as he spoke.

"I—I'm sorry. I really am." He licked his lips. "This doesn't…work…for me."

The doctor frowned. "What?"

"Look…I'm sorry, it's hard for me to explain…" Brian ran both hands through his hair. "Look, _you're_ the shrink. Tell me what I'm thinking."

Chilton leaned back against the counter, watching Brian, frowning. "You're afraid." He said softly. "And angry. And I don't understand why—"

"Because this is a big deal!" Brian burst out, glad to raise his voice. "I'm still living in the closet, if you hadn't noticed. And my car has been outside a man's house all night, and I'd rather no one put two and two together!"

Chilton raised an eyebrow. "And that's it…you're ashamed of being caught in a homosexual relationship? Do you plan to keep your sexuality a secret forever, even if you find a relationship that you're happy with? Because you aren't happy now."

"I _am_ happy! Well, _was_ happy…" Brian felt his hands clench into fists. "It's just—" He fell silent, hands on the counter, head down, nails biting into his palms.

Chilton watched Brian. At one point he considered reaching out to the other man, but thought better of it. "What made you feel like this?"

"Well…" Brian let out a breath in an angry huff. "For one, just being your play-thing. You used me and left me lying in your dungeon like the riding crop and handcuffs. Not—well, not that I didn't enjoy myself, but I thought—" Words failed him again, but Chilton caught the discrete flicker of his eyes towards one of the far doors. Every once in a while, he experienced a flash of true insight…this was one of them.

"Would you have preferred to a more traditional setting?" He asked, a faint smile creeping up his lips at the suggestion. "You must understand why I have the bed in the basement set up the way I do…less mess, easier access…"

Brian saw that the hungry look had returned to Chilton's eyes. He felt his body responding to that even as he shook his head. "It's late. I really should get going."

"It's a Saturday." Chilton replied, bridging the gap between them with two strides, pressing Brian against the wall and kissing him fiercely. "Let me show you my room."


	6. The Kitchen

Brian knew the second that Chilton's lips brushed his that they'd never make it to the bedroom. In that instant, he also realized that he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around the doctor's neck, returning the kiss, shivering with excitement.

Logical thought had not entirely left him…the second Chilton tried to tug him back into the dungeon he would have leleave. He was sure of it. But it _didn't_ happen…Chilton seemed perfectly ready to take him against the wall or on the kitchen floor. Not quite a bed, but far preferable to the previous night's location. Brian sighed happily against Chilton's kiss.

"Frederick…"

The doctor took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, forcing Brian's mouth open with his and coaxing a greater response. His bathrobe was pulled open almost to his navel, and something below his bare skin was pressing eagerly against Brian. When Chilton pulled back from their kiss momentarily Brian simultaneously gasped for breath and rocked his hips forward, grinding his pelvis against Chilton's. Chilton moaned and tugged at Brian's hair.

Brian's hands crept down to tug at Chilton's bathrobe, but strong hands covered his own and forced them palm-up against the wall. Chilton pinned Brian's arms with one hand and used the other to tear at each button on Brian's shirt until it fell open and was easily pushed back. Chilton bent his head to Brian's exposed chest, exploring it with his lips and tongue. Brian let out a groan, grinding against Chilton, his chest heaving.

Chilton released Brian's arms and tugged him away from the wall in one motion, discarding his shirt and dragging them both to the floor.

The kitchen tile should have been cold to Brian, but it seemed to burn like his skin, to burn for Chilton. The doctor leaned over him, spreading Brian's legs with his knee and licking his lips before kissing him again.

Brian was already hard against Chilton's knee. He arched his back, returning Chilton's kiss and clawing at the button on his jeans. Chilton helped him, and he was suddenly naked beneath the doctor, only the fluffy bathrobe between them.

This time when Brian reached for the bathrobe, Chilton let him remove it. He shrugged it off his shoulders and smiled down at the man on his floor. He ran a hand through his hair, settling back slightly so his ass rubbed Brian's erection.

"Now," Chilton was panting too, his eyes eager. "Quick, Brian. The same as last night, or will you try something new?"

Brian had no clue what Chilton meant, if he really intended to try to go to the basement after all now, but he was sure he wanted this as _far_ from last night's experience as possible. He bit his lip. "New. Something new."

Chilton's smile widened. "Turn over then." He made no move to release Brian at first. He clung to the other man, gazing down at him with one hand in Brian's hair. After a moment he rocked back on his heels, giving Brian the space he needed to turn over so that he was on his hands and knees facing away from Chilton.

The doctor didn't give him long to wonder exactly what they were going to do. He knelt down behind Brian, placing a hand on either side of the man's waist, and positioned himself. Brian felt Chilton's firmness pressed against him before the doctor snapped his hips forward and sunk into him.

Brian stiffened and let out a low groan as Chilton entered him, so much slower than last time.

After the first tentative thrust Chilton picked up a steady rhythm, moaning Brian's name and the occasional expletive. For a while he lost himself in what they were doing, but his hands slid from Brian's waist to his cock, eager to please his sub, coaxing sounds of pleasure from him.

* * *

Afterwards, Chilton picked up the tattered remains of Brian's shirt. He balled it up and tossed it into the trash. "Let's see if we can find something for you to wear home in my closet." The idea thrilled him more than he would have thought. The doctor scooped the discarded bathrobe up off the floor and held it out to Brian. "Here, take this…don't get dressed for now." He admired the other man's body with a smile.

Brian took the robe and made a face at it. Its' fuzzy white fabric was patterned with happy cartoon sailboats. "This is the same atrocious bathrobe you wore in the hospital…" He smiled at the memory of Chilton kicking a fuss until he didn't have to wear a hospital gown anymore. "I thought it got bloody and was thrown out."

Chilton shrugged, smiling as Brian tied the belt. "I keep getting them for Christmas."

Doctor Chilton took his time selecting a shirt for Brian, turning back often to smile at his lover's just-fucked hair. He was glad that Brian took the shirt but didn't immediately move to put it on.

"Stay for breakfast." Chilton said impulsively, not wanting to give up his time with Brian yet. "I'll cook you something, then you can get dressed. Keep the shirt." _And sleep with it_, he added silently.

Brian agreed and sat down at the table. While Chilton's back was to him he lifted the button up to his nose and inhaled.

He sighed with happiness. After all his worry about the night, Chilton had given him this wonderful morning…and hope. He watched the doctor cook, admiring his bare form, laughing when Chilton couldn't flip an omelets and exclaimed in a somewhat indignant tone that they were going to have scrambled eggs instead.

There was something so endearing about this side of Chilton…so different from the Chilton who'd handcuffed Brian to the bed in his dungeon. _It's_ _because he isn't made for that_, Brian thought, surprising himself. _He may like it, but it isn't him…not at all._

Brian had zoned out and somewhere his phone was ringing. He pawed at the pockets of the robe before he realized his phone was still in his pants. Chilton was already stooping to retrieve them, holding it out to Brian.

It was Jack Crawford.

Suddenly painfully aware of where he was and what he'd been doing, Brian shot a panicked look at Chilton and put his finger to his lips as he answered the phone. "What is it Jack?"

"Brian, I need you and Jimmy at Will's house as soon as possible. I already called Bev." He hesitated. "Hannibal called me…get here fast. There's an ear in his sink."


	7. The Next Day

Murphy's Law states that everything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong. Until that brisk morning, Brian had never much believed in it. But when he got into his car it wouldn't start, it was the first thought to cross his mind.

Chilton came out after a moment. "It sounded urgent. I can drive you where you need to be."

The thought completely panicked Brian. Heading to a crime scene and work in Chilton's shirt, in Chilton's car? It was too much. "Just let me see if I can…" He cranked the ignition again and heard nothing. "It's just the cold…"

But it wasn't, and he knew that deep down. With all that had been going on at work he'd neglected not only his personal life, but his car as well. Chilton leaned through the window and turned the keys back. "Let me take you."

Brian grudgingly agreed, although the idea seemed worse and worse to him. He sunk down in the seat so low that he couldn't see the scenery and was only aware that they'd arrived when Chilton stopped his car.

The two looked at each other for a moment. Chilton looked grave. He leaned forward and for one horrified second Brian thought he was trying for a goodbye kiss. The doctor was only reaching over to turn the heater up, however, and Brian scrambled out of the car quickly.

Jack was briefing the rest of Team Science outside of the house. There was no sign of Will or Doctor Lecter.

"We need to get him out of there…"

"You can't really think he'd do something like this, would you Jack?" Beverly crossed her arms. "Will Graham is our friend and colleague…"

"I don't know who or what he is anymore, Beverly." Jack snapped, then he sighed. He'd been regretting a lot of things he'd said lately. "I don't think he knows, either."

All those long hours and sleepless nights of hating Will Graham, Brian found he couldn't look at him. Perhaps that was normal…neither Beverly nor Jimmy could either, but they'd been his friends. With Brian it was different…the ache that should have faded pleasantly but was beginning to ramp up might have been part of it. Next time, Brian was going to have to talk to Chilton about a bed and lube…

Next time?!

Brian wasn't sure how he felt about a next time. The sex had been hot as hell, yes, though he had a suspicion that Chilton didn't have a clue about half the toys in his basement. Watching someone play with a blowtorch when they have no idea how to use it can be amusing…but also deadly.

There was also the matter of whether or not Brian had feelings for Chilton other than lust and a strong new friendship. Frankly, for where he stood now, their relationship was too fucked up to continue. Not love….not yet…but it could be. And loving a man so widely ridiculed and despised…!

Will gave Brian a _long_ look as he walked by.

Inside Will's house, however, there was no peace for Brian's tortured mind. While Jimmy fingerprinted the area around Will's sink, he shot a glance at Brian.

"I notice you got a ride from that Doctor-what's-his-name today. A bit odd-looking, isn't he? With bugged-out eyes. Grabby hands." Jimmy snorted at some thought that flitted through his head. "He looks like the sort of therapist that psychoANALyzeshis patients—!" he laughed louder.

Brian didn't even realize he'd snapped until Jimmy stumbled back, hand over his nose. "Jesus Christ, Brian—!"

"Hey!" Bev stepped between them quickly. "Now is _not_ the time. We need to work together to prove that Will is innocent." She turned to glare at Jimmy. "This is _not_ the time for jokes."

So, for now, no one suspected a thing. Not even Jimmy, who stared at Brian somewhat sulkily as he recorded the contents of Will's pockets. For now, Brian could be alone with his thoughts.

But not for long. Because if Will _was_ guilty—which he certainly was, hadn't Doctor Chilton seen it coming?—that would mean a one-way ticket to the asylum where Doctor Chilton worked and that would mean that Brian would have an excuse to see his friend and lover again.

And, of course, there was the matter of his car sitting in Chilton's driveway.

_Fuck, _Brian thought.

He could go see Chilton after work…maybe even call him to get picked up…but no. He'd have his car towed. Give himself a little extra time to think things over.

His thoughts wouldn't leave him alone that day, and neither would Will's eyes… even through the one-way mirror they seemed to follow. After a period of time Brian became sure that it _wasn't_ his imagination, and he wondered if it was the slight limp with which he walked now…if Will was feeling what he was feeling. He flushed at the though. God, he hoped not…Brian Zeller was comfortably operating in the closet, and for now that's where he wanted to stay. No trip to a basement could change his mind… Chilton would need a whole different tactic if he wanted to get Brian to go public with his sexuality, let alone their relationship.

_WAS_ it even a relationship?

_Fuck_, Brian thought, and rested his face against his hands.


End file.
